What Doesn't Kill You
by Reverse Lucky Girl
Summary: It's not always true. RogerDraco crossover, 75% PWP. Ignore inaccuracies such as Roger's hair color. I was thinking about Jack at the time.


By the time Roger finally cornered him, Draco was almost relieved. The way the taller boy strode closer and closer, drawing his wand behind himself to cast a murmured _Muffliato_ across the only exit… it made Draco shudder a little, made the bookshelves rising up around them almost— bend inward, shielding them further.

Draco leaned against the cold wall, hoping it would absorb his tension. "Roger, no, we can't do this here."

Roger didn't reply but the distance between them was closing fast. His eyes had gone dark and there was a controlled feralness in the grace of his approach.

"Roger—" He started forward to meet the other, maybe he had some strange thought of pushing past him though Roger had proved himself stronger than Draco on many an occasion. But he was just as quickly slammed back against the wall.

Roger's hands tight on his shoulders, his face pressed against the pounding pulse at Draco's throat. He always knew where to find it, where his heart beat loudest.

And Draco's hands press against his upper arms, not nearly hard enough to push him away, but island-hardened muscle tightens anyway.

The first kiss is gentle, a soft movement against pale skin. It elicits a sigh. A tongue's tip makes a quick wet warmth, then gone. Then a harder kiss, a little higher up, and again, and again, sharp and biting, hints of teeth.

Draco's hands can't decide whether to relax or clutch tighter at Roger's sleeves at first. It's only kissing, but it's _Roger_, the devious boy who makes Draco hot and cold all over. Merciless and irresistible and bloody sexy as well.

Those lips are growing nearer to Draco's own and Roger's hair feels silky soft, long bangs brushed over his eyes. Draco wants to kiss him, a tender urge flanked by painful lust.

A pause, full of hard breathing and expectancy. Their faces are level with each other's. Eyes glance from waiting, parted lips to eyes, and back.

Then Roger darts in and they kiss, so close to gentle again for a moment. Soon the redhead starts grinding against him and Draco grinds back. Still kissing, tongues pressing into each other.

Draco dimly registers Roger's hands brushing down his chest, but he doesn't feel his fly being unzipped until suddenly his briefs are pulled down and their cocks greet each other in the friendliest of ways. The blonde makes soft moans into Roger's mouth and he responds in kind but deeper, harsher.

Draco breaks the kiss a moment before he comes, mouth dropping open and eyelids fluttering shut as his orgasm hits. A hand covers his mouth, smothers the stuttered cry. Roger's forehead presses to Draco's temple, the tip of his nose against his cheek.

Barely a second after Draco climaxes, Roger does as well—a long shiver, eyes squinched shut in the most vulnerable of ways, a breathy groan almost like he's in pain. The feeling of Roger's lips moving against his cheek sends a horrible, wonderful string of butterflies down Draco's torso.

One or both of them mumbles _Scourgify_, they do up the skewed buttons and zippers. It's a little awkward now, now that they're both spent and want to do it again even though they can't really.

Perhaps it's a flush of post-orgasm courage that pulls Draco to cup Roger's face in his hands, run his thumbs over harsh cheekbones.

Roger just stares, trying to calculate, to understand the strange look on the blonde's face. But he can't and it makes him want to squirm.

"I've got to get back to class," He says and something stirs at the flash of hurt that interrupts Draco's reverie.

"Right." Those beautiful callused hands press a little harder to his skin, then drop.

Now Draco won't look at him at all.

"Bye then." Roger turns and walks away.

Draco looks into the shelves and rubs the fading red marks on his neck and pretends he isn't straining to hear the other boy's retreating footsteps.

And Roger is almost out of the library when he realizes he wants those hands to touch him again—but it's too late now, he can't go back. He can only give into his weakness for his fellow Slytherin when the fellow Slytherin gives as well. Without that sense of abandonment he can't move, he's stone.

Draco swears that the library feels so much the emptier when Roger is gone.


End file.
